Chapter 1 Made Me Want to Build a Cabin (Then Nap for a Week)

Look, I’m going to be honest with you. When I first started writing Disappear for a Year, I imagined someone reading Chapter 1, slamming the book shut, and immediately throwing their phone in a river. Dramatic? Sure. Effective? Also yes.

The opening chapter isn’t just a gentle suggestion to “set some boundaries.” It’s a wake-up call. The kind that doesn’t come with soft jazz or a soothing app voice telling you to “just breathe.” It shows up like Muhammad Ali—swinging.

Ali, by the way, is kind of the main character in Chapter 1. Which means yes, my book opens with a boxing reference. And no, you don’t need to know anything about boxing to get the point (I barely do). Ali got knocked down, got pissed off, then disappeared into the mountains like a legend in training montage mode. Same.

Fighter’s Heaven, But Make It Airbnb

Ali didn’t just “take some time off.” He disappeared to a place called Fighter’s Heaven. It was in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by trees, sweat, silence, and zero Wi-Fi. He literally pumped his own water and slept in a shack with no electricity.

When I read that, part of me was inspired. The other part immediately Googled “glamping resorts with breakfast included.” Because let’s be honest: most of us like the idea of disappearing. We don’t necessarily want to rough it. We want transformation without trench foot.

Still, the concept sticks. There’s something about removing yourself from the noise—intentionally, dramatically, maybe even stubbornly—that feels both terrifying and delicious.

Disappear ≠ Run Away

Now before your boss panics, let me clarify: “Disappear” doesn’t mean quit your job via Post-It and move to the Yukon. (Though if that’s your vibe, I support it spiritually.) It means turning down the volume. Not forever—but long enough to hear your own voice again. You know, the one buried under email dings, Slack pings, and the endless hum of pretending you’ve got it all together.

Disappearing can be as simple as:

• Not checking your phone until after coffee.

• Saying “no” to that event you always dread.

• Taking a walk without a podcast whispering in your ear.

  
  

It doesn’t require a cabin. Just courage.

Why We’re All One Group Text Away From a Breakdown

Let’s talk about how loud the world is. You wake up to a phone that already hates you. Your calendar is full before you’ve even remembered what day it is. You’ve got ten tabs open—both on your laptop and in your brain. And someone, somewhere, just added you to a group chat you didn’t ask for. And that’s before breakfast.

No wonder the idea of disappearing feels so damn seductive. You’re tired. Not just “need a nap” tired—existentially tired. Like, “maybe I’ll fake my own death and move to a small fishing village in Portugal” tired. But here's the twist: you don’t actually want to disappear. You want to become.

Muhammad Ali Didn’t Ghost the World—He Rebuilt Himself

Ali didn’t vanish because he was weak. He vanished because he was wise. He knew that you don’t sharpen a blade in a thunderstorm. You go where it’s quiet. He built Fighter’s Heaven not as an escape, but as a strategy. He trained, thought, retooled. He invented the “rope-a-dope,” arguably one of the smartest mind-game tactics in sports. (Translation: lean on the ropes and let your opponent tire themselves out punching you, then strike when they’re gassed.)

It was genius. It was tactical. It was born in stillness. And that’s the whole point of Chapter 1.

Your Version Might Look a Little Different

You don’t have to build a shack or punch anyone (please don’t). Your Fighter’s Heaven might be:

• A blank journal.

• A solo trip.

• A therapy appointment.

• A break from Instagram influencers who make you feel like your morning smoothie should have activated charcoal and unicorn tears.

  
  

Disappearing is personal. It doesn’t need to be dramatic to be meaningful. But it does need to be honest. And sometimes, it’s less about where you go—and more about what you stop pretending.

The Power of Stillness

In this fast-paced world, we often forget the value of stillness. It’s in those quiet moments that we can truly reflect. What do you want? What do you need? It’s time to listen to those questions.

Consider carving out time for yourself. Maybe it’s a weekend retreat or simply an evening with no distractions. Embrace the silence. Let it wash over you. You might be surprised by what you discover.

Final Round: You In?

If you’ve made it this far, here’s your permission slip: You are allowed to disappear. You are allowed to pause, unplug, reset, and breathe. You are allowed to step away from being everyone’s everything and become your own anchor again. Just don’t wait for the knockout punch to do it.

Disappear now. Even if it’s only for a weekend. Even if your version involves sweatpants and aggressively declining social invitations. The ring will still be there. But when you come back, you’ll be ready to win—not just survive.

So, what’s your plan? Are you ready to take that leap?